The Games We Play
by All and Sundry
Summary: "I'll be leaving for my trip soon. I thought you'd appreciate an extra moment of my time before then."


This was originally part of _Dances with Fate _but took on a life of its own... To note: in my head, Seto and Ishizu are only two-ish years apart, so you're aware. No, I really don't care if that's canonical or not.

Rating is for exactly what you want it to be for.

Enjoy..?

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**. : The Games We Play : .**

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"Oh, I don't know what he's doing actually. He hasn't been answering calls for the past few hours…"

A young face darkened with concern.

"No matter, I have the keycard. I'm certain he's fine," was the calm reply.

"B–But I'm not sure it's a good idea to just go right on up without notifying him first."

A nod.

"I understand your concern but I'll risk it."

Left behind was a flustered intern.

Numbers ticked slowly higher until the final one was displayed and elevator doors slid open noiselessly.

A small lobby gave way to another set of doors. They were already open, prompting a raised brow.

Only a step in across expensive carpet, she heard an abrupt end to what sounded like a voice. A man's perhaps, the snippet of sound had not gone on long enough for her to guess.

Across the room sat a figure. Quiet keyboard clacks filled the otherwise silent space. Nothing out of the ordinary except that not a single light was on, the only brightness came from slivers near the floor where the shades had been left just a little ways open.

"I have the manuscript."

Several more steps put her nearer to him.

"Leave it on the desk," he replied, not hesitating in a single keystroke.

Usually he would at least spare a glance.

Placing down a folder stuffed with papers, she tilted her head and staring down at him… long enough that he stopped typing and looked up with a frown, pale screen of his laptop making light and shadows of him.

"What?"

"You'll damage your eyesight further like this."

"I'm not in the mood for your lectures about my health, Ishizu."

Intending to open the shades, she crossed around the desk only to stop in surprise when he barked— "It's fine," then rushed, "don't you have other work to do?"

Something was certainly amiss.

"At the moment, no, so I decided to bring the folder in person."

"That wasn't necessary."

Perhaps she might have been hurt he was making it clear her presence was unwanted if she didn't recognise a cover up. And a failing one at that.

"Is something wrong, Seto?" she asked, pulling up onto the desk. "I'll be leaving for my trip soon. I thought you'd appreciate an extra moment of my time before then."

The response was a huff and a fading smirk, his way of saying 'Yes, I would,' followed by a predictable change of subject, "I hate when you do that."

Perch, that was.

Eyes roamed up from the desk and back to hers.

"Yet you always fail to mention why you hate it."

He didn't have to. They both knew.

Arm rising, she reached down towards his laptop. In turn, he pulled the screen halfway closed and the loss of light made the room that much darker.

He was hiding something alright.

"Did I interrupt entertainment of some kind?"

"I spend my time _designing_ entertainment not wasting all my time parked in front of it," he objected stiffly.

Arm extended once more, she touched him. Under her fingers, his jaw set. Amusing herself with this fact, she tilted her head, eyes following the slow trails of her own fingers along the line of his jaw, the texture rough here as it always was in some amount.

The next morning she would be perched on the edge of the bathtub, watching him, dig through the top drawer for a razor that wasn't pink or purple, settle for a purple one, work gel between his fingers. Silly perhaps, to enjoy playing audience to a simple routine, but he'd never once seemed bothered by her wish to observe.

It would be the last time for a while, she realised, and the reverie was soon broken.

"I don't have time right now," he growled.

It took a moment to gather what he meant. Sighing, she let her hand fall.

"I did not stop by out of some desire for intercourse. It was only for the manuscript and to see you. That was all."

"Then why are you still here?"

Such pleasant company he was, honestly…

"Your intern informed me you had made yourself unavailable for the past few hours." She gazed upon him in the dimness. "Then I entered your office to find you scrambling to hide whatever it was you were doing…"

"I wasn't scrambling," he replied scathingly and glared up at her as he eased back in his chair.

If he refused to admit it outright, so be it. She would persist.

"I heard a voice when I entered. Was it yours?"

"There's no one here. Why would I be making noise?"

Suddenly the proverbial pieces fell into place.

"Seto, were you…?" The question trailed.

There was no polite way to phrase it, was there?

Brows knit out but only momentarily as a corner of his mouth twitched, betraying effort to prevent some expression. Reaching for her knee, he murmured. "That's what you're here for."

Naturally, fingers ascended in the inevitable quest under her skirt, an easier task than usual given that today the fabric was the sort to fall freely around her.

"What a convenience I seem to be…" She pressed a hand atop his, not dissuading yet not permitting any more progress at the time. "Assurance that you no longer need to resort to… solitary pleasure…"

Laughter issued from him, the rare sort free of cynicism and just a jumble of pleasant staccato notes. She loved his laugh. Fortunately, he spoke soon since there was no hope of her recalling the current subject.

"The way you say things."

Through the fragment, the sentiment carried.

_I like it._

"I will call when I can though I expect the opportunities will be few and far between..."

He had nothing to say about her trip, it seemed. The hand under her skirt slipped out from under hers and sideways along the inside of her thigh.

"You said you didn't have time right now," she commented.

"So I'll make the time."

Her fingers twitched where they rested over her own skirt as a little shiver worked down her spine.

It was as simple as this.

When he spoke so plainly.

When, rather than go into detail about what he could do to her, he deliberately allowed the opportunity to pass and let her imagine.

When he said nothing, he said far more than any amount of arrogant words did, no matter how many of them were strung one after another.

The slander was Kaiba.

The solace was Seto.

And it was the man behind the mask who never failed to hook her interest.

Hand removed from her, he reached to the other side of the desk to press and hold a button as he spoke. "Hold all calls until further notice."

A voice quickly crackled through the system in return. "Yes, Mr. Kaiba."

Then she was in his lap.

Hands gripped. Hers against his shoulders as she settled, pressed her hips down into his. For the soft groan she earned, a small smile rose to her lips. There was a time he might have stifled the sound.

Years ago.

The day he'd given up the senseless restraint was one deeply etched into her memory. Oh some of the things he'd said…

All was soon brushed aside, curiosity about what he'd been doing and even fond memories which had surfaced as she _felt_… his hands press against her thighs, draw the dark fabric of her skirt up in the midst of his wandering. Her own kept to his shoulders, fingers dragging pale material against palms.

Bites. Her teeth at the part of her lips between them. His at the curve of her neck. Slick over the mark was his tongue, there then retreating while breath warmed and lips parted.

"No desire for intercourse..." he murmured against her skin.

Amidst gathering haze, understanding was slow, but she recognized her own words.

"None," she breathed.

From his blazer, her hands rose. Smoothed up his neck, into his hair. Twisted. Tugged. Insistence was met with a faint grunt. In rough syllables was her name then nothing else. Nothing whole. Only soft sounds which had no name, that of their lips together. Once. Twice. Over and over until separations ended and they began to intertwine. Lips. Limbs. Impatient fingers undone in their twists and forming new ones. A silk tie pulled loose then what it had covered undone, one by one.

His scratchy growl against her lips. "Leave it."

No.

She spoke with the movement of her lips against his and persistence down along his shirt. Compromise. It was left on but open, as she'd wanted, as she made him want…

Up and down like a somersault. Her nails and fingertips down his chest, smooth planes and the faint dips between. An urging groan rolling up his throat.

It wasn't enough.

Industry turned to herself, hands at work along the buttons of her own shirt, over the swell of her chest then suddenly gone as he caught her wrists and jerked them apart.

He repeated, all acid and agitation. "Leave it."

This time she answered, verbalisation as caustic as his. "Stop rushing."

There was time. There was no need for it to begin and end so quickly. She was acquainted with his enthusiasm but this… This greed…

Why..?

He answered. All at once he let go and took hold again elsewhere, gripped along the thighs he pulled closer around hips he pressed up into hers, and made known what she inspired.

Then he elaborated, breathed only two words as if he'd forgotten how to articulate the rest.

"Tomorrow night…"

None of this would be possible.

She would be curled into plush fabric. Cold against one temple as she lay her head against hard material shaped around an oval. Through it lights would be scattered like fallen stars blinking dully. Shrinking smaller and smaller until they disappeared one by one and the city below could no longer be seen.

There was nothing to leave behind before. No one who would await her return here.

Until now.

"Okay."

* * *

It had taken him but seconds, watching her gingerly smooth out the crinkles in her rebuttoned shirt, seeing the tight line of her lips, to regret rushing.

The last of afterglow in dying embers rose to new life.

Suddenly, they were against the doors of the office. Entangling. Tearing apart freshly restored appearances. This time bearing more. For fumbling hands and brushing arms. For the electricity of skin bared against skin. Haste and a soft symphony. Faint breath. Nonsensical murmurs. Articulations of growing aches. And more. Her name broken into pieces and each seared across the shell of her ear. One, motion to tear away the last of what kept him from her. Again. Two, shuddering breaths. His and hers. Three, movements, torturous grinds of his hips while nothing separated any longer.

Then slow union.

And from it, pleasure trailed up in jagged bolts. Spread shivers and bright sparks. Sounds intertwined as a plaintive pair. An unrestrained cry. A drawn groan. Together. A departure only to reunite. Over and over. Steadily. Endlessly. Until her smooth voice cracked to utter his name. Then everything. Faster. Careening to an end. Shades of blue. The ocean and sky. Bled together. As did they. A bright chorus then silence.

In the quiet, she understood.

His having said something now that he'd never said before.

* * *

As it was, they hadn't stayed.

In moments after, he swallowed her laughter, her giggles at the way he dropped her into sheets but abandoned impish tugs at her clothing as they kissed. Their sheets. He lost his breath before appetite, still dotting what of her her skin he could with kisses. Covering and recovering places as marked in the backseat of the car but no more than that.

Somewhere at the airport there must be a dozen or so grumbling for delayed travel she wouldn't partake in. Let them. She couldn't find the feelings to care, all too pleased with sound. His sound. Breathy, easy, little things murmured against her collarbone. She'd had her fill now, as had he, and lay his head against her chest.

"Should shower," he murmured quietly even while he made no motion to act on the idea.

"Mm."

In time dozy conversation returned.

"You missed your flight."

"Mm." Her fingers slid into his hair, playing with a bit that was sticking out now. "Do you want to come?"

She had a sneaking suspicion he would again protest her leaving the same way he already had...

Why not take him along then? Two birds for a single stone, as the saying went.

"Already did."

It took a moment but the comment was eventually followed by the sound of a light smack then a needless "Ow."

"I meant the trip."

Silence descended and she supposed he was thinking. So she let him.

For a moment.

"Will you finally dispel all the secrecy from earlier?"

He sighed. "Playing."

"Oh I knew that..."

"That's not what I meant."

But he failed to elaborate as to what he did mean. She was left to guess.

"Oh! That game with the dragons."

It _was_ on his laptop after all.

Then it was his turn to hum in reply.

"You might have just told me."

"Did you really think I was doing that..?"

They had known intimacy together, tenfold, and yet he wouldn't say the word.

"Well yes," she said, stifling a laugh. "Don't you generally..?"

At length he answered. "No."

"Have you ever..?"

"Everyone's tried it."

"Mhm.." she replied. A circular way to respond but that was him for you..

"How old were you?"

She drew away to try and look at him but he only wrapped an arm around her back and kept her from doing so.

"Why?" she asked.

"I'll tell you if you tell me."

She decided to humour him. "I was twenty one."

There wasn't any sound but the silent shake gave away his laughter.

"I lived in an underground compound, you know..." she told him, adding on when he only laughed all the more. "It..." Decent excuses were slipping out of her grasp. "It echoed."

He stopped long enough to ask. "So you did try it then." The words were breaking up amidst laughter. "How else would you know?"

"Oh enough," Ishizu chastised, rather childishly trying to push him from her.

Of course, he didn't let go and rather continued teasing her, a hand fiddling with her shirt buttons. "How old were you really?"

"Seventeen."

"You'd foreseen me by then, hadn't you?"

And now she knew where he was going with this... "So I told you. Now you tell me, as we agreed."

Whether he was listening or not, he was wracked with more quiet laughter.

"Such maturity," Ishizu drawled.

"It was me, wasn't it?" he asked suddenly, moving away far enough to look up at her.

"You should not be so quick to assume there was any certain object of..." Nearing the end, she frowned to realise she'd rather not say but had to now. "Lust or what have you."

"You had to have someone in mind."

By then, her gaze was decidedly fixed anywhere but him. "Seto-"

"I'd bet my deck it was over me."

"...Your cards would be sorely missed, I'm sure."

Pulling her shirt open, he commented lightly. "You always hesitate before you lie."

"Oh would you stop?"

"Tell me what you did," he pressed.

"...I don't remember."

"Ishizu."

"You first."

"Eighteen," he said. "There's nothing about it worth mentioning."

"I could say the same," she rushed. There was a new fact she could hardly resist picking at. "That seems quite late."

"And you suddenly know statistical averages for this?"

He'd been all too quick to answer and it was just rapid fire from there.

"Of course not."

"You're supposed to be detailing."

"All in good time, love. First, there's something I'd like to know..."

"Ishizu."

"I believe there was a certain tournament going on when you were eighteen, was there not?"

"It lasted a month."

"Are you referring to the tournament or your amorous... expressions for me?"

"The former."

"Then you don't deny the latter."

"No one said it was because of you."

"Then it _was_ during the tournament after all!"

All at once, he untangled himself and turned his back to her, clearly attempting to dissolve the conversation. Ishizu only shifted closer, an arm sliding around his side as she pressed up against his back.

"I was only curious," she spoke from somewhere near his ear, "if I'm not to blame, I don't mind."

Not answering, he settled on his side, a kind of tension beginning to fade. One she hadn't realised was there until it was gone.

"Would you like to see what I did..?"

The meaning of her question dawned painfully late. But he did turn to face her eventually, temptation of the idea too much to resist, as was her desire to tease the whole way through.

* * *

The clock on the bedside table changed over as many intervals as there ended up bits of clothing on the floor. The dark of the early morning found them falling quiet then asleep, some words to blame her issuing from him.

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**. : End : .**

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This whole thing changed so many times, I don't even know what to tell you but there it is. I tried to show a little of the friendship side of their relationship and I hope that came through at least.

Thank you for reading.


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